


Dreaming of the Dead

by anaraine



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-09
Updated: 2015-06-09
Packaged: 2018-04-05 19:33:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4192251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anaraine/pseuds/anaraine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kate wakes up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dreaming of the Dead

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wicked_wyvern](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wicked_wyvern/gifts).



Kate wakes up.

There's something odd about that, something that tugs at her memory in a way that is distracting. She feels achy and sore, muscles protesting as she moves to rise from her bed, get dressed and... and do something. Go to work? The light beginning to slip through the window is indicative of pre-dawn, when Adam is asleep and she is either coming back from a shift or getting ready for one.

Something feels off, but she can't explain _why_. It's like she's missed a step somewhere, an important one.

Kate shuffles her way to her closet, stretching her arms above her head and yawning wide enough to hear her jaw crack. She pulls out the first pair of scrubs her eyes land on - it's a cute one, pale blue and dotted with fluffy white sheep, jumping over fences in improbable poses. She likes the ones doing backflips the most. The kids she sees in the emergency room seem to favor the sheep doing grand jetés, though.

Her stomach rumbles, but the sound makes her flinch. It reminds of her of _hunger_ and. And what? Her mind shies away from the answer.

It's probably close to five in the morning. That's a perfectly reasonable time for her to eat breakfast. Kate steps into the hallway on legs that are still waking up. She passes Adam's room - the light is off; hopefully he went to sleep at a decent hour - and trundles down the stairs into the kitchen. She flicks the button on the coffee machine first, pulling down a large ceramic mug with 'World's Greatest Mom' written in wonky, childish letters. (Adam always flushes when he sees her using it. Kate lives for the little quirk of his lips as he turns away, embarrassed but pleased.)

The gurgle of the coffee machine in the still of the morning has never bothered her before, but right now it is too _loud_ and she can't hear anything else over the heavy thump of her heart.

Kate mulls over what to eat, hunched over the counter as she closes her eyes and tries to pull up a mental schedule for her day. Breakfast is an important part of the day and she always makes sure to eat something on the way to the hospital. It's never as wholesome as she would prefer, but she doesn't have the time. Some raspberries, she decides, and a bit of buttered toast. She's too unsettled for something greasy like eggs or hash.

The raspberries stain her fingers red. Like _blood_.

She washes her hands in the sink with water hot enough to scald. Her skin is pink and tender when she turns the faucet off and the paper towel she uses to dry her hands with feels too rough. The coffee machine shuts off with one last hiss and Kate grabs the carafe to pour herself a large mug. She pulls her jacket on and flips off the lights, making her way blind to the front door.

The shadows of the hall reach toward her with long, spindly fingers and Kate should not be so _terrified_ in her own home.

Kate opens and shuts the front door, making sure to lock both the dead bolt and the door knob with a vague sense of despair. She turns, and walks into a sea of white.


End file.
